


divine

by Yetitrash



Category: The Hotel (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, girlboss manager hates men (as she should!), lobby boy is a Good Boy, mentions of angels (biblical and not)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yetitrash/pseuds/Yetitrash
Summary: Room 222 - Landon Brewer"222, that's an angel number. It means you are right where you need to be."
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	divine

**Author's Note:**

> Left aligned text is Lobby Boy, right is The Manager  
> Angels use she/they/it pronouns :]

The lobby is medium sized today. There's dark red carpet. I don't like it when the lobby has carpet. In case something happens and I have to clean it. Carpet is hard to clean. Hard to get all the stains that the guests make out. But this carpet is okay. It already looks dirty. Like it's been walked on too many times. This lobby feels special though. Beside the door are two marble angel statues. The both have long hair and blindfolds over their eyes. They remind me of my Manager. They are very pretty.

It's slow today. When The Hotel finally took shape I expected it to be...better. The lobby is modest and the only exciting things are the decor but even those disappoint. Angels, real _true_ angels, never were meant to be goddesses in flowing white robes and perfect skin. They were grotesque and unknowable entities, covered in eyes and impossible to comprehend. Much like The Hotel.

When the guest finally arrives I can already tell he's going to be a difficult one. He throws his bags onto the floor by my desk and glares at the Lobby Boy expectantly. And of course my Lobby Boy comes running.

The guests only look at me when I am needed. Today is no exception.

The guest needs a room for three nights. I smile knowing his room will most likely be empty in two. "222," I read aloud from the tag on his room key, "that's an angel number. It means you are right where you need to be." Mr. Landon Brewer, as his name appears in the guest book, doesn't respond to me.

I don't like spending too much time with the guests. Sometimes the guests get mean. Sometimes I am unable to get the guests what they need and they yell. I...I don't like it when they yell.

Mr. Brewer has misplaced one of his bags and is now berating the Lobby Boy. My Lobby Boy only stands there and takes it with his pillbox hat atop his head like a halo, but he is no angel. He has no wings or eyes aplenty. He is simply the Lobby Boy. _My_ Lobby Boy. He is...a good boy, but only to me, only to The Hotel. And that's good enough because that is his job.

The guest is very mad at me but I don't know why. He says I stole one of his bags but he only entered with three bags. The bags are on my cart, ready to go onto the elevator. I want to be on the elevator. I want to take the guest to his room but he is still yelling at me.

Mr. Brewer reminds me of a man I've met before. Of _many_ men I've met before. A man so sure of himself and his own capacity that he thinks he's above making simple mistakes. That he is never to blame for any problems he's caused. But he, like all these men, are human. They all bleed the same. And now this pig headed man has escalated from yelling to putting his filthy hands on my Lobby Boy.

I-I don't like to touch the guests. I don't know where they've been. They've been outside and I am not allowed outside The Hotel. I don't like being outside The Hotel. But now the guest is touching me. H-he's grabbed my coat and shaking me as he yells and asking if I can hear him. I nod very hard because I can hear him. I don't like to touch the guests. He asks me if I'm stupid. I-if I'm a word that I don't like to say. I'm still nodding because I want this to be over. I want to be in the elevator already.

I could step in but in all the time I've been with The Hotel I know it wouldn't do any good. The Hotel always has a way of working these things out and as Mr. Brewer continues his tantrum he has failed to notice how the room has changed. He's too busy harassing the Lobby Boy, _my good Lobby Boy,_ to see anything that isn't the red anger that's blinding him.

I-I don't like to look at the guests, usually, and especially not ones who yell, so my eyes were closed when it started. Suddenly the yelling stopped and...and the guest started gurgling. I looked then even though I wish I didn't.

Unlike Mr. Brewer I can admit it when I've made a mistake. I underestimated the tacky decor of The Hotel today. Those incorrect angels are behind Mr. Brewer now, the blindfolds once covering their eyes are wrapped around his thick neck and lifting him off his feet by his throat.

It was almost like they were trying to bring him to heaven. They were so bright but....b-but I could still see the smiles on their faces. I'd seen that smile before. On The Manager. When she would hand over the keys to the desk.

They were laughing. Mr. Brewer was choking and begging for his life and the angels were filling the room with their laughter.

They were loud. And bright. It hurts to be so close but I...can't look away. I never can. The Manager is watching. She is _always_ watching. She is watching to make sure _I_ am watching. I don't like to disappoint her.

Just when I was starting to get bored they surprised me again. Mr. Brewer's face turned as red as the floor then in an instant pale white as each angel reached inside him to take a rib; spilling his viscera all over the dinghy carpet and splattering all over my poor Lobby Boy. Mr. Brewer is loud even in death and the sound he makes is the loudest thing heard tonight.

Why did it have to be in the lobby? Why didn't he let me bring him to his room? My feet are wet. I....feel.....t-the guest seeping into my shoes into my socks. I feel sick. I try not to think about it. I don't want to get sick in front of my Manager. I don't want to make more of a mess I already have to clean up.

The Lobby Boy is taking this better than I thought he would. I swore he would have retched by now as the angels are ripping Mr. Brewer to shreds, still laughing all the while. I must say, these angels have grown on me.

After what feels like forever it's over. It's finally over. The....the last....the l-last bits of the guest fall to the floor. The carpet... The dark red carpet....darker. I look up again and... One of the angels touches my face. It isn't unpleasant. The angel wipes their fingers across my face, under my eye. I didn't even know I was crying but the angel wipes away my tears. It feels...nice.

As one of the angels returns to its place the other takes pity on my Lobby Boy, smearing more of the guest's blood across his face in place of his frightened tears. The Hotel usually doesn't coddle or comfort anyone inside its walls so this is.....an unusual sight.

The angel's hands are warm. Not like flesh but like a rock that has been in the sun all day. I know this is because their hands were just inside the guest but...b-but I try not to think about that. She holds my face in both hands and smiles at me. That smile I've seen before on the Manager but only for guests. But this time it's for me. This time it is for me. The angel says something to me but their voice is too loud and far away for me to hear it. They walk away. Back to beside the lobby door. Both angels are on each side now. Their wings outstretched and hands out with their marble blindfolds across their upturned palms. They aren't too bright to look at now but their hair covers their eyes. What do they see? What...do they see?

When I look down at my guest book Mr. Brewer's name is gone as if he was never here. Usually their names don't disappear until the hotel reforms but this guest has already seeped into the carpet without a trace. I don't attempt to understand what The Hotel does and why so I go to my office until the next guest arrives.

I turn to my cart but it's gone and next to the wall in its place. I don't remember putting it back. I move to the utility closet but the squish under my feet is now gone. I look down. There's dark red carpet.... I don't like it when the lobby has carpet. In case something happens and I have to clean it. But this carpet is okay. It already looks dirty.....

....The lobby is medium sized today.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're here you're probably from twt but here's my twt anyway! @egoscrocs  
> Listen/support The Hotel at @TheHotelPod or their science fiction sister show Theatre of Tomorrow at @TomorrowTheatre (make sure you spell theatre with an R E!)


End file.
